


An Apology

by SelenaEstella



Category: Bleach
Genre: Blood and Injury, Dubious First Aid Procedures, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 19:03:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11492724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SelenaEstella/pseuds/SelenaEstella
Summary: Ichigo has been wounded and is unconscious while he recovers. Grimmjow watches over him, and discovers that he cares far more than he thought he did. Grimmjow POV.





	An Apology

**Author's Note:**

> AKA "Grimmjow Doesn't Understand Feelings But Has Them Anyway"
> 
> This is my first published Bleach fic since... 2012? I think? It's been a long time!

The storm roared on behind them as Grimmjow staggered into the alcove, blinking sand out of his eyes, hauling Kurosaki beside him. He could feel the dead weight of the shinigami only increase in the shelter, and when Grimmjow dropped his burden against the wall Ichigo could barely hold himself upright.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Grimmjow muttered. He dropped into a crouch and tore the fabric away from Ichigo’s side. The spine was still deep in his flesh, but it curved away from his organs and didn’t look like it’d hit any. It hadn’t gone all the way through, though, and it’s ridges were covered in hooks. Pulling it out was too dangerous. Even breaking the end off could make it splinter...

“I’m going to push it through,” said Grimmjow, ripping one of his sleeves off and wrapping it around his hand. He didn’t wait for a reply–the venom was spreading fast, quicker through blood than it would through a Hollow’s reishi veins. Grimmjow pulled Kurosaki’s arm out of the way and studied where they exit point would be. He grabbed the spine.

He was unprepared for the sound when he pushed it through. He’d heard Ichigo in pain before but never a high, tearing scream of agony, and Grimmjow had to let go of the barb so he could lock his arms around Kurosaki and stop him from making it worse. The struggling continued after the cries ceased so Grimmjow shoved Ichigo down and pinned him with his knees, took the spine again and pushed it, carefully, all the way through and out.

Ichigo cried out again, but that time found words. “ _Stop!_ ” he begged, pounding his fist weakly against the stone floor. “ _Stop, please, no no no stop it PLEASE!_ ”

The barb came free and Grimmjow hurled it away, destroyed it with a cero before it could land. His lapse in concentration was enough for Ichigo to shove him off.

“I need to pack the wound,” Grimmjow snapped, already tearing off his other sleeve.

“ _No…_ ” The weak plea was enough to make him stop and look up. Kurosaki was shaking, face was completely pale. His eyes were fever-bright, shining with tears and

Fuck.

 _Fuck_.

Grimmjow had wanted this, once.

He had wanted to see Ichigo look at him like that.

To look at him with fear.

The betrayal, though…

 _I will kill you the instant you start to slow me down_ , Grimmjow had said.

Oh, Hell…

“Kurosaki,” he said quietly, shifting slowly back into a crouch. Ichigo flinched, shaking his head wildly as he tried to struggle away. He was in danger of pulling himself back into the sandstorm, but at the rate his wound was bleeding he wouldn’t make it that far.

Ichigo tried to fight but the venom and blood loss made his strikes weak and useless. Grimmjow pinned him down again, pushed fabric into the hole in Ichigo’s side to stem the bleeding and, hopefully, help the poison drain. It was messy battlefield surgery but the only thing Grimmjow could do, and by the time he was finished he was shaking almost as much as Ichigo.

_I don’t want this anymore._

He’d begun to think of Kurosaki as invincible.  _Annoyingly_ invincible, yeah, and not _invulnerable_. Grimmjow knew perfectly well that it was entirely possible to hurt him. But Ichigo always kept going. Every time they fought there was that infuriating determination, that iron will. Ichigo shouldn’t have fallen to this. To a cheap shot from some Adjuchas.

Grimmjow sat back, absently wiping the blood off his hands, and watched. Ichigo was curled up, almost unconscious from pain but keeping his eyes trained wide and frightened on Grimmjow. _It’s the poison_ , Grimmjow thought, tried to convince himself. Ichigo’s head was fucked up, that was all, it would pass. They just had to wait it out. Grimmjow chose the opposite wall and slumped back against it, Pantera across his knees.

He’d let himself think that it had all been an act. In a gigai it felt necessary to blend in, just like he’d learned to watch his mouth, for the most part, when in earshot of Aizen or Tousen or Gin. A strange world with strange rules and Ichigo  _fucking_ Kurosaki or some other Shinigami ready to bring the sword down if he acted wrong. He’d thought that it would stop in Hueco Mundo. He’d thought the game would die in the harsh desert wasteland.

Grimmjow looked back at Ichigo. Thought back to those nights, and then those few mornings after, when he’d woken up to fingers combing through his hair, to kisses on his neck, and let himself enjoy it until he woke up properly and remembered exactly who Grimmjow Jaegerjaques was.

“…I’m sorry.”

The storm swallowed the words.

–

Grimmjow didn’t sleep, but he entered a trance-like state, ready to move at a moment’s notice but resting, for the most part. In the desert they had slept in shifts and never deeply. Later, with his arm gone and his rank stolen, he’d damn near perfected this ability as he’d struggled to recover without the protection of his Fraccion.

Grimmjow listened to the storm, felt for intruders, but mostly he watched Kurosaki. The fever had worsened; Ichigo had been out of it for a while, twitching fitfully every now and then but for the most part dangerously still. It was during one of those periods that Grimmjow roused himself, shoulders cracking as he rolled them.

He didn't expect Ichigo to die, but the sight of him lying like that made Grimmjow uneasy in a way he didn’t fully understand. Even while sleeping Ichigo looked more alive than this–his face was too pale, too blank… How often had Grimmjow seen it without some intense emotion? He slowly moved closer, only to freeze as Ichigo moaned.

His lips were moving. After a second’s hesitation Grimmjow leaned closer, straining to hear, but the words were unintelligible if they were even words at all.

Grimmjow sat back, legs crossed, and watched. He found himself looking at Ichigo’s hands, clenching and unclenching against the stone ground, nails raking through grit. They went still after a few moments, a shudder running through Ichigo’s body as he lapsed back into complete unconsciousness.

Would it even help?

Grimmjow reached out slowly and touched Kurosaki’s palm. No reaction. Not even as Grimmjow curled his fingers and locked them tight with Ichigo’s own.

–

Hours later, Grimmjow’s head snapped up as Kurosaki’s hand clenched around his, fingernails clawing at his skin. Ichigo groaned. Brown eyes were blinked open, tired and unfocused but lacking that godawful fear. Grimmjow leaned in again as Ichigo grimaced, licking dry lips and trying to clear his throat.

“Water?” he croaked, and Grimmjow could’ve laughed. No fucking thing in the desert. Instead he slowly, cautiously, reached out with his free hand to run it through Ichigo’s hair, testing the motion more than anything.

“Is it that bad?” Kurosaki muttered, smiling humorlessly and wincing when he moved. The relief that the worst was over felt almost dizzying. “Help me sit,” Ichigo continued, twisting onto his back. “I need to see it.”

Wordlessly Grimmjow pulled him up, supporting Ichigo against his body. The fever still burned fiercely and Ichigo’s hands shook as he prodded the wound.

“This is literally the best you could do, I guess,” Kurosaki admitted after a minute, voice tight with pain. He found Grimmjow’s hands where they were clasped around his waist and held on reflexively. “How do you know this stuff anyway?”

Grimmjow shrugged, subtly adjusting their position so that he could hold Ichigo more securely. “Don’t know. Always have.” Instinct, perhaps, or maybe even leftover memories from his brief time as a human. Grimmjow had no doubt that his first life had been filled with violence.

“You’re being quiet.” Ichigo settled his head against Grimmjow’s shoulder, turning his cheek against the cold bone of Grimmjow’s mask and sighing quietly in relief. “Was it that bad?”

“You don’t remember?”

“No.” Grimmjow couldn’t read his face to see if he was lying. Thought he might be, by the tension he could feel, and if his grip tightened he wouldn’t admit it later.

“I’m sorry,” Ichigo whispered.

Grimmjow scoffed and rolled his eyes. “Shut up,” he said. “Just don’t get hit next time.”

“Mm.” Ichigo shifted a little more, settled further into Grimmjow’s arms. Passing out again, clearly, but he was out of danger now.

“Oi…” Ichigo’s dead weight was gonna cut off circulation to Grimmjow’s legs, and it would fucking hard to fight back if something did come looking, especially with Pantera still on the floor several feet away.

But…

Grimmjow brought his hand up and found Ichigo’s hair again. He ran his fingers through, brushing out sand, marveling at the unexpected softness.

“I’m not going to die,” Ichigo whispered suddenly, and wasn’t that the saddest fucking thing, that he thought he’d only get this if he was about to kick it, permanently? So Grimmjow ignored him, kept going as Ichigo relaxed completely against him, breathing evening out until there was only the occasional hitch of pain.

Finally, the sandstorm died.


End file.
